


You're Not In This Alone

by ClydeW



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, NON GENDERED READER, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, basically you hurt yourself, but sammy comes to the rescue, he's such a wonderful inky little boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 17:03:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20678858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClydeW/pseuds/ClydeW
Summary: you begin to relapse into cutting, but Sammy catches you before you do too much harm. he then comforts you afterwards.





	You're Not In This Alone

**Author's Note:**

> (BIG SELF HATE AND SELF HARM TRIGGER WARNING)  
Do not read if you get triggered or sad easily! It is very detailed in those parts, based off of self experience.  
Also, if anyone has any requests for batim x reader stories, drop a comment please! I'd be happy to write them.

Nothing. Nothing but a shell of a person. A nobody. These things ran through my head as I stared into the ink stained mirror in front of me. My reflection stared back, the same ink mixed with tears stained face with the skeleton like body below it. Sammy didn’t know, of course. It wasn’t that he was oblivious, the guy noticed everything that happened when he was around his precious little lamb, but it’s when he’s away in another floor of the studio that he doesn’t know what i’m doing by myself. A fake smile when he’s near and sobbing when he’s gone, it wouldn't keep me sane, but it would keep him happy. My eyes lingered off of the reflective surface for a second to see if Sammy was back. The door to the office area was still closed and there was no sound of footfalls from beyond the wooden paneling, so I guessed that he still wasn’t back. So I turned back around, looked into the mirror one more time, and then slammed my ink stained fist into the glass as hard as I could. There was a loud crash as the glass shattered into large chunky reflective pieces, but it quickly fell into silence.

‘Good,’ I thought to myself, ‘he didn’t hear.’ when the glass shattered the pieces didn’t go very far, they had all collected into a spread out shiny pile in front of my feet. I grazed over a fairly large piece with my now blooded fingers, the red mixed with the dried up ink in a sort of artistic way that made me smile a bit. I picked up the shard, relishing in the pain it brought when its rough edges dug into the sides of my hand. Crimson trails trickled down my palm, mixing with the blood from my fingertips and knuckles. I looked at myself through the now tiny mirror, but instead of seeing a nobody I now saw a coward staring back at me. My eyes flicked down towards my other hand, watching it as it seemed to move on its own towards the frilled ends of the sleeve of my long sleeved shirt. While shaking furiously my bony fingers grasped on to the fabric, slowly pulling it up and bunching it near the crook of my elbow. My forearm was now exposed under the dim studio lights, a piece of my body that no one besides myself saw, not even Sammy. Lines, multitudes of them, crisscrossed the entire area of skin, sometimes overlapping each other. Some as wide as my fingernail and some as thin as the point of a pencil, but all of them were faded and faintly there. For I hadn’t purposefully taken anything sharp to my own skin since before I had gotten trapped in the studio and had met Sammy within the depths. I had been able to stop myself from doing it again while I was down here, until now. I held the mirror shard tighter, making the blood ooze out a little faster from my hand. My whole figure was shaking by now, but I ignored it and positioned the sharpest edge right above my pale and scarred skin. I dragged the shard across it slowly and softly, only leaving little beads of crimson behind it. It was painful, and it started to sting and throb, but it felt wonderful at the same time, like a 20 pound weight had been taken off my shoulders. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding in as I positioned the glass again, this time a little below the first mark. But before I could make another slice, the door handle in front of me started to jiggle. The only thing I was able to do between the shock and the short amount of time was drop the blade of glass. It fell against the wood the a ‘cling!’ and the door flew open. In the doorway stood a worried and petrified Sammy Lawrence, his mask clasped in his inky hand instead of on his face. He stared at my hands and my wrists as I stared at his face.

“(Y/N)..? What happened..?” he asked in a worrisome voice. I looked away at the floor, too scared to face how he was going to react.

“I...um…” I tried to speak, but was choking on my words as tears began to collect in the corner of my eyes until they started to flow freely down my cheeks. I attempted to choke back a sob, but failed, Sammy noticed too. He walked forward, picked me up, and carried me to a nearby desk chair. He held me like a small child and ran his inky hands through my hair as I sobbed into his chest, holding my still bleeding hands out in front of me, staring at them. Once my sobs turned into quiet sniffles he got up from the chair, still holding me, but he flipped around and placed me on the chair instead. 

Kneeling down to look me in the eyes he said, “Stay here, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.” I nodded in response and he kissed the top of my head before leaving the room. He left the door open when he left, and I could hear him across the hall, down in the infirmary. He had only been gone for maybe two minutes before he reappeared through the door, holding a first aid kit in one of his hands. He came back over towards me and knelt down again, this time opening the small box as he did so. He took out a roll of gauze and looked at me as he gently took ahold of my hand, outstretching my arm so he could bandage it. He wrapped my hand first, the glass having cut it deeper than the rest of the wounds, fresh crimson still leaked from it. As he did so he spoke quietly.

“...why, my little sheep?” he didn't look at me as he asked, either because he was too focused on my wounds or because he was scared I couldn't tell, but I didn't look at him either, I just watched him work.

“I...I don't know…” was all I could spit out. Of course it wasn’t true, I knew exactly why, but I didn’t know how to explain it to him. A few fresh tears began to fall off of my face and onto the dry bandages in small droplets. Sammy noticed immediately and stopped for a moment as he looked up at me, my head still lowered. With one hand still holding onto my wrist he lifted the other one towards my face to wipe away the now flowing streams, replacing the tears with watery ink stains.

“Don’t cry my little lamb.” I found the slightest courage to look at him, and when I did a small comforting smile appeared on his face.

“I...I’m sorry, Sammy…” I didn’t look away as I spoke, trying to focus on the hope in his white eyes.

“You don’t have to be sorry. Just know that I’m always here, darling. Even when I go to another level, all you need to do is call my name and I will come. A shepard has to take care of his sheep, doesn’t he?” A tiny almost sad like smile crept unknowingly onto my lips, which made Sammy smile even more. I purposefully leaned and fell forward into his arms, his inky fingers taking a hold of the back of my shirt. Ink stained my hair and face, but I didn’t care, the smooth feeling and metallic smell was comforting. I hugged onto him, not wanting to let go. He began to run his inky fingers through my hair, content within the moment.

“Please don’t ever leave my side…” as I spoke I leaned into him more, almost falling off of the chair completely He was all I had, and we kept each other sane. I needed him, probably more than he realized.

“I won’t, my sheep. I promise. You won’t ever be alone again.”


End file.
